


Deliverance

by Sildominarin



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sildominarin/pseuds/Sildominarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Clint Barton saved his teammates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliverance

1) **Steve Rogers** **  
**

 **  
**Captain America was a symbol for good. For seventy years the iconic shield and suit had signified the strength of a person somehow above the average person. Stronger, braver, truer of heart and stronger of spirit, he was the one person who could stand up against the evils of the world and still look toward the hope of a better day. No one was beyond saving in his eyes, and there was no challange that could not be overcome without a little good old fashioned team work and ingenuity.

Captain America truelly hated no man. Steve Rogers, however, was fairly certain he could be persuaded to despise Victor von Doom.

The Avengers had in the last few months become what Fury had intended all along. They worked in perfect harmony, a response team for the criseses until SHIELD and any other military force could arrive for back up. The Battle of New York had cemented them as a team, but the seemingly endless rounds of attack and defend against the various antagonizers of the human race was starting to get old. Especially when it was someone else's problem. As selfish as it sounded, Dr. Doom didn't mean much to Steve. He was Reed Richard's sworn enemy, and all that nonsense, and it seemed that Mr. Fantastic should be the one to be fighting here. After all, Steve took full responsibility of action whenever HYDRA reared their head-- why couldn't the Fantastic Four do the same?

And it was a sign of how very tired he was, that this was coming into play. But he'd been up the last four nights with Agent Coulson going over SHIELD reports of recent AIM history, and even with the serum he could feel the lack of rest-combined with the stress of the recent weeks- pulling at his reaction times. It wasn't terribly noticable, but the sooner he got a chance to get a decent meal in him and catch a few hours kip the better--

"Doom Bot, Cap! Ten O'Clock!" 

The urgent voice in his communicator- Sitwell, he thought- had him snapping out of his reverie and scrambling to get the shield up. But his attenion hadn't been where it should have been, and Steve bit back a grunt of pain as the metal construct slammed into his side. Bruised ribs would heal within moments, but even the serum couldn't immediately fix having the wind knocked from his lungs. Coughing, he tried to keep his shield between him and the doom bot, which was readying itself for its next attack. With a sinking feeling, Steve realized that four more had joined it. He couldn't throw the shield, but defensive attacks would be less effective with those numbers. Holding his shield closer, he tapped his communicator.

"Could use a hand, Agent."

Sitwell's voice was tense and rushed on the other end. Affirmative. Iron Man or Thor, Captain America is in need of assistance at the corner of 142nd and Vine! I repeat, back up Cap at the corner of--"

"Gotch'ya, Captain."

Steve instinctevly looked up at the voice, even though he knew that it was almost impossible to pick out their resident sniper when he was in a perch. Even at this proximity he barely saw the black arrows in flight before they slammed into the bots with astonishing speed. In the space of a breath all four were down, and Steve resettled the shield on his arm with a quiet, relieved sigh.

"Appreciate the assist, Hawkeye."

"I got your six, Cap. You mind heading half a block west? Black Widow's got a couple on her tail."

"Will do."

\------

2) Bruce Banner

It was all going so terribly, terribly wrong.

In his defense, Bruce had never even intended to go out that morning. He rarely left the tower to begin with- Tony hadn't been exaggerating when he called the R&D floors Candy Land-, but it had been almost two years since his last unintentional Hulking on the helicarrier, and the Whitney was running a three day exhibit on some of Normon Rockwell's early work and he'd wanted to see it. The whole morning had been spent in the lab, meditating and working himself into the calm zone of long practice. His breathing was slow, his heart rate down, and the other guy was silent in his mind.

And so, armed with a communicator and a thermos of masala chai, Bruce had set off into the city for the first time in months. Tony's exhuberant...ness had resulted in an explosive growth of Banner's wardrobe, and while he was occasionally frustrated by seemingly endlesss rounds of clothing deliveries it was nice to be able to go out when he wanted in something besides ten year old jeans.

In retrospect, he should have known something was going to happen. Things had been going so well with the Big Guy and his work that Bruce had somehow managed to forget that the universe hated him. But he'd been terribly, forcibly reminded of that when, two blocks from the tower, he caught his first tail.

The man wasn't familiar, but Bruce didn't need to know his face to identify him. The way he moved, the way he was dressed, the combination of determination and poorly hidden anger in his eyes-- it all pointed to one of the soldiers in General Ross's command. The training, the mission, the absolute drive to capture and or kill Bruce whenever possible. It all added up, and with a sinking feeling Dr. Banner realized that Ross must have had men just waiting around the tower for him to emerge without the rest of the Avengers. A quick check showed that yes, his communicator- his sattelite powered, Stark-created communicator- had no signal. He was on his own.

It was probably a bad idea, and he was probably going to regret it, but the last few months had successfully beat out the idea that he was a monster who could only hurt people. He liked the tower, he liked his team, and the sudden panic that Ross and his men might lock him up in the middle of nowhere for the rest of his life swamped him in a blinding wave of terror. He rounded the corner, the tail only a few feet behind him, and  _bolted._

It was hard to run on a crowded New York street if you were trying to be polite, but in the terror that sprang from both his mind and that dark corner that housed the other guy, Bruce barely noticed anyone else. He barrelled through crowds and around stands, all too aware of the shouts and footsteps that signaled even more people following him. The anger and the fear and the running brought back uncomfortable childhood flashbacks, and that part of Bruce's brain- the childlike part of him that knew how to hide, still and silent, until the danger had passed- was screaming at him to take shelter somewhere. Anywhere. But there was no good way to double back to the tower, SHIELD headquarters was on the other end of the city, and he didn't want to endanger anyone by ducking into  a cafe or shop if he ended up Hulking out.

The voices were getting louder, and the panic bubbled up into his throat. He wasn't thinking straight anymore, was too afraid to try and think up something to do. He could feel himself begininng to slow as well, chest burning and legs aching at the unfamiliar exertion. Ducking into the first open ended alley he saw-even in his panic he knew better then to dodge toward a dead end-, Bruce tried not to slide too much on the garbage slick entrance and tried to urge more speed into his flagging legs--

Only to feel two strong arms slide under his shoulders, and suddenly he was airborne. Renewed panic swept through him, and he felt the all too familiar quiver of rage and terror that preceded a change build in his chest. _No. Oh no. Not here._

 _  
_"Easy there, big guy. Just me."

 _"Clint!"_ Bruce jerked his head around, gaping stupidly at the familiar face. Where Barton had come from he'd no idea, but somehow the man had hauled him up onto the fire escape as easy as a sack of potatoes. "How the hell..."

"Free running." The archer explained, shrugging. "Heard the commotion, started following. We should have known Ross'd do something like this. Sorry about that."

"What...I....It's not your fault." Bruce froze in renewed terror as his pursuers tore into the alley, but the age old truth that humans never looked up was proved true yet again, and the soldiers thundered by without even a glance in their direction. He waited for a few more moments, but there was no one else to come through and raise the alarm. "Oh God. That was way, way too close."

"Please. That was a morning jog." The calloused hand on his shoulder took any sting out of the words, and Clint pulled his familiar sunglasses back from whatever pocket they'd decided to hide in. "You up for some Parcour back to the tower? Bet I could even beat the big guy back."

Coulson got one look at the blurry photos of Hawkeye riding piggy back on the Hulk over the roofs of New York, and took the rest of the week off.

\-------

3) Natasha Romanov

As far as SHIELD was concerned, Natasha Romanov's slate began the day Clint Barton refused a direct kill order from his handler and instead recruited the infamous Black Widow into the ranks of the almost-good guys. Hundreds of successful missions later, they've both saved the others lives numerous times. But as far as Natasha was concerned, the only way to repay the debt she owed was to continue to help the agency that had given her a home, and to protect the man who had given her a chance.

Even if she routinely pounded him into the mat during hand to hand combat.

\-------

4) Tony Stark

"Stark Industries does not negotiate with terrorists."

Some distant part of Tony's mind was impressed that Pepper could be so calm with a gun pointed at her head. She'd always been reliable under pressure, which was why it had been such a success over the years for her to be first his PA and the CEO. Virginia "Pepper" Potts was cool, level headed, and always took life's problems on the chin.

And right now, Tony Stark was desperately praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in to that a bullet not be one of those problems.

The man- a damn AIM agent, fuck those fuckers- shifted. Tony could tell he was starting to get impatient, and he wished desperately for the suitcase suit or a gun or... Hell, at this point he'd take a rock. Anything to get the man's attention back on him and away from Pepper. But they knew him and knew his weak spot. Heck, everyone who read a gossip magazine knew his weak spot, but this was the first son of a bitch who'd gotten close enough to explot that. Everyone else was either dead or locked in a high security prison somewhere far, far away.

Or dead. Had he mentioned dead?

"Ms. Potts, I strongly recomend you reconsider that statement." The hammer of the pistol was drawn back. "Your future is somewhat dependant on it."

There was a sheen of sweat on Pepper's forehead now, and the sight of it both broke Tony's heart and sent his blood boiling. Hw  _dare_ they frighten his Pep. How fuckind dare they. He was going to single handedly dismantle every aspect of their ridiculous organization and personally strangle the one who suggested going after his girl friend.

There was a tremble now, but Pepper was still staring the man in the face. "Stark Industries does not negotiate with-"

"What do you want?"

Both Pepper and the masked man turned to face Tony, and he had an  _Oh, Shit_ moment when he realized that the words had been spoken out loud. Still, the gun was lowered now, and that was progress. Taking a deep breath, he raised his arms in true Stark style and sent the man a raised look.

"Seriously. What do you want that is so important as to ambush us on the way to the city's hardest resteraunt to book? I mean, yeah, I have a standing table, but still. Principle. Not cool, man."

"We want the suit. And the serum."

"Okay, first? We've been over this. No suit. Nope. No touchy. Second, the super soldier serum has been lost for fifty years. What in the hell makes you think I have it?"

The man sneered. Even with the mask, Tony could hear it in his voice. "You take me for an idiot? Do you really think that the 'brilliant' Howard Stark would have allowed a chemical to be used with his machines that he did not know the exact chemical make up of?"

"I-" Tony stopped, blinked, and hummed thoughtfully. "You know, never considered that. Huh. Have to look into that. Still, not going to give it to you. Sorry. Now if you'll excuse me I have a date, and I'm there's some kind of sad villian convention that you're missing. Bad guy anonymous or something-"

"Do not trifle with me!" Furious, the man spun, raising the gun to aim toward Tony's chest. His hand was tightening on the trigger, and Tony had a second to register Pepper's horrified yell-

And the man dropped with an arrow through his temple.

"Oh holy shit. Shit, shit, shit." Tony gasped for air as the adrenaline slammed into him, almost immediately followed by Pepper, and did his best not to cling too hard. They were alive.  They were alive and okay and....And there was an  _arrow through the man's head._

"What the hell. Barton?"

In response, Tony felt his phone vibrate, and pulled it out. "Did you just shoot that guy through the head."

_"Nice to see you too, Stark. Pepper okay?"_

_  
_"I'm fine." Shaking now, Pepper leaned closer to the phone. "You're the best, Clint."

 _"Could have told you that."_ But Tony could hear Clint's half smile over the connection.  _"SHIELD is minutes away. Unless you want to get stuck in an all night debrief, I suggest heading back to your date."_

 _  
_"Are you suggesting we play hooky? Love the way your mind works, Robin Hood." A sudden thought made him tense and look around quickly. "Hey, are there any more of those fucking AIM goons around?"

_""Got you covered, Stark. We'll get eyes on the resteraunt too."_

_  
_"You're my hero, Hawkeye." Pepper blew a kiss toward the darkened rooftops, then giggled-only slightly hysterically- as Tony's grip tightened around her waist.

"Ms. Potts, I feel betrayed. Hurt and betrayed, in the cockles of my blue shiny heart."

"Well then, Mr. Stark, I'll just have to make it up to you later."

\-------

5) Thor

 

Asgard was Thor's home. There he had grown up, been taught and trained by the best of their world's warriors, and learned much of what he would need to know about ruling in his father's stead. There he had been loved and eventually betrayed by Loki, for whom he would always feel affection for. There was no realm among the roots of Yggdrasils that would hold more of his time or affection.

But Midgard had been the making of him. For all that his time spent on the earth was brief, he had changed more among those mortals he called friend then in the centuries he'd dwelled on Asgard among the Aesir. Among the Avengers he had found comrades whose friendship rivaled that of the warriors three, and their exploits could fill a hundred songs among the warriors of Valhalla. And he could only be grateful that his brother's betrayal had not barred him from their company.

But one on front alone had Loki's poisonous tongue been right, for all that Thor had thought to deny it. Humans thought him immortal. But for all his strength and skill and power, Thor Odinson was not immune to death.

And here, lying atop the rooftop of Stark Tower, he was faced with that knowledge for the first and final time.

They were not sure from whence the attack had come, but came it had and with a violence the Avengers were scantly prepared for. In his heart of hearts, Thor feared Loki to be the agressor, and to his shame he had not fought with all his strength for fear of harming his brother. He had put his comrades in danger, and by the time it was discovered that it was not the god of mischief behind all of the troubles it had been too late to make amends. All Thor could do was bring the might of the Aesir onto the attacker, weaving a net of lightning around both himself and the strange attacker and ignoring the cries of his team.

The explosion had been tremendous, destroying the aggressor instantly. But for all that he had lived, Thor himself was far from unscathed. Mjolnir had dropped from nerveless fingers, and his body soon followed. He had not the strength to lift it again, nor to rise and alay the fears of his team mates as they poured through the communicator in his ear.

"Heimdall." His voice was broken and weak, and he coughed through the pain of speaking. "Witness my end, and tell my father, Odin All-Father, that I fought well."

"Thor? Oh hell." The words caught his attention, and Thor forced his eyes to focus on Hawkeye as he scrambled over the gravel surface toward him. "You okay there, big guy?"

"I am well. I go to join the fallen in Valhalla."

"No. No no no no no." Strong hands were suddenly on his armor, pushing the rent steel aside to exame in the dire wounds. "Oh God. Okay, Thor, hang here with me, buddy. I need a med team up here, now!"

"They will be no help now, my friend." His voice was losing strength and volume now, even as his began to dim.

"Jesus, no. Come on, Thor, I've seen you summon that green lightning...stuff. Closes up wounds and fixes your 'proper Asgard' threads and all that. Can't you call up some now?"

"I've not th' str'ngth to lift Mj'ln'r."

"No. Come on, Thor, I can't-" With distant concern, Thor heard his friend's voice catch. "I can't lose anyone else this year."

The guilt was still there, in Thor's breast. His brother's actions had done much damage, but the worst it had seemed was to draw away the Son of Coul, who had  held the Hawk Eye'd one's heart in his hands. To cause more pain-even if the man was returned to them- was farthest from his desire, and yet away from his control.

"If I could....I would stay, friend."

"Then you're staying."

Clint's face disapeared from his sight, and distantly Thor could hear the sound of his quiver spinning in it's mechanical home. There was the sound of uncoiling wire, and a quiet murmer of 'Discovery Channel, don't fail me now'. Then a length of cool wire was placed in his hands, and Barton's face back to hover close to his own.

"Okay, big guy, I know you're tired, but on three I need you to pull that wire as hard as you can. Please." There was a pause, but Thor had no strength to answer. "Gonna take that as a yes. Alright, one...two....three!"

Thor did his best, tugging on the wire with a shaking hand. Above him Clint had aimed an arrow straight up, pulling the string back to it's full draw and letting it fly before throwing himself to the side. The wire trailed after it, propelled by both the strength of the shot and, when it hit a certain height, by tiny thrusters int he arrow head itself. One of the Man of Iron's experimental ones, then. He wondered dimly how high a thing might soar, and--

And Mjolnir, drawn first by his pulling and then by the wire sliding through his own hand, rested in his grip. He could feel the strength of it in his palm, and through it the metal wire attached to an arrow as it streaking through the clouds. A mobile lightning rod. With only a tiny force of will, Thor called the power through it to him, and the wire sparked with a blinding green as the lightning was channelled into him. He felt it gather along his injuries, closing them as though a healer had laid their hands upon him. And with it the pain receded. Before the lightning had fully depleted, Thor felt as though he'd never been struck down.

As the light faded and the thunder rumbled into nothing, Thor rose easily to his feet. Clint was nearby, rubbing at his ears and walking over. "You good now?"

"Indeed. Your mind is as sharp as your gaze."

"Aw shucks, you'll make me blush." Still, there was a pleased look in his eyes before he donned his dark black lenses. "Wanna go see how much trouble we're in for using the Tower as a lightning rocket?"

Judging from the sounds of Tony lamenting all the windows he would have to buy now, Thor knew his friend was relieved for their safetly. Grinning, he clapped a hand onto Barton's shoulder. "Gladly. And then we shall find repast for today's efforts."

"Still not eating shwarma again."

 

 

 


End file.
